


Late Bloomer

by Cherienymphe



Series: Royalty & Period Pieces [6]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Omega Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:15:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28869144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherienymphe/pseuds/Cherienymphe
Summary: Geralt of Rivia saves you from more than just a werewolf attack.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader, geralt of rivia/reader
Series: Royalty & Period Pieces [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2116905
Comments: 1
Kudos: 128





	Late Bloomer

You stumbled, feet catching along vines and branches swiping along your arms as if they were trying to catch you. Trap you for the beast that was chasing you. You knew that it was only a matter of time before the howling creature caught up to you, and then you would be dead. You were no match for a werewolf, the thought was laughable.

You could already feel yourself growing weary despite the fact that you hadn’t been running for very long. The only light to brighten your path came from the full moon that hung above you, taunting you as you knew it was the reason for the creature’s appearance. It seemed that the universe was done toying with you, because it wasn’t long before you were thrown to the ground, a loud snarl sounding above you.

You screamed as sharp claws made their way down your leg, dragging you backwards as you reached out to hold onto anything that might save you. As much as you fought it, you could no longer hold back the tears that spilled down your cheeks. You weren’t ready to die. Perhaps part of you should have been, what with your family having gone long before you did, but you weren’t.

You’d never gotten the chance to even travel far outside of your village. No further than the woods. you hadn’t even presented yet. A late bloomer, some had called you. For that, you’d never felt the touch of another man, not even a kiss, and you found yourself regretting all of the suitors you’d rejected out of fear. _Fear_. How you loathed that word, now. Fear had gotten you nowhere. Nowhere but dead at the hands of a bloodthirsty lycanthrope.

All of your movements were suddenly halted, the pressure on your legs no longer there. You could hear some commotion going on behind you, but you were too exhausted and in too much pain to lift your head. You blinked as your vision began to go blurry, the world tilting as you fought to stay conscious. You couldn’t feel your legs, and part of you wondered if they were even there still.

You could faintly make out the sound of flesh being cut, a most grotesque sound that you were unfortunately familiar with. There was a pained howl, a few grunts, and then all was quiet. Well, if you didn’t count the sound of your labored breathing. You heard footsteps nearing you, and you didn’t have the strength to be concerned. Black boots filled your vision just as you succumbed to the darkness.

.

.

.

You woke with a start, sitting up with a gasp as you blinked. Your eyes were wide as you fought to understand where you were and what was happening. You were in a bed, and it took you a moment to realize that it was your own. You were in your home. Had it all been a dream? At that thought, you threw the covers back and took in the bandages on your legs.

No. It had happened. Then how…?

“You’re awake,” a deep voice grumbled, startling you.

A loud yelp left your lips as you turned your head, eyes landing on a large figure sitting in your tiny chair in the dark corner. The sight would have been laughable if you weren’t currently terrified.

“Wh-who are you?” you breathed.

He said nothing at first, but eventually, with an annoyed grunt, he rose and stepped into the light that shone through the window. You sharply inhaled as your eyes landed on his tall figure. He was just as the whispers said he was.

A tall, broad and almost frightening mountain of a man with white hair. The women at the brothel were familiar with him. He’d been known to pass through town every now and again, but you’d never had the pleasure of meeting him yourself. Truth be told, you had always been a bit relieved by that. While the women of the brothel never spoke ill of him, they did always utter one thing about him that terrified you.

 _Alpha_.

Your town was small. So small in fact, that the only alpha to have ever been around growing up was your father. He’d died when you were fairly young, but you heard the way your friends spoke of alphas, and the thought of being around a man like that who wasn’t your father unnerved you. Sometimes alphas passed through, stopping at the brothel, and most times, they weren’t nice to the women who worked there, a good number of them omegas.

“You’re the Witcher,” you whispered. “Geralt…of Rivia.”

“That is what some call me,” was his simple reply.

You blinked again before fingering the bandages on your legs, mouth parting as you pieced everything together.

“You saved me,” you said, looking up at him in awe. “Thank you.”

He simply hummed in response, and you realized your friends’ words were true. He was not much of a talker. At least, that was what you thought.

“Why were you out in the woods alone on a full moon?” he asked, nostrils flaring.

You frowned at his tone, not liking the condescending and accusatory feeling it gave you.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” you huffed. “I’m a healer. I needed a type of leaf at the last minute for an antidote I was making. I didn’t expect to get lost, and because I was in a hurry, I didn’t note the time of day when I left. Night had come and the moon had risen before I knew it.”

He simply eyed you for a while, nostrils flaring again before humming in response, and you sighed.

“You will need to rest a few more days before you are well enough to be on your own. That is when I will take my leave,” he told you, walking back over to the chair.

“How did you know what to use? For my injuries,” you clarified.

He made a noise, and you imagined he was smirking at you as he lowered himself down.

“I’m not a complete brute. I do have some knowledge of certain herbs and remedies. It would not be the first time I’ve had to tend to werewolf wounds. You are lucky to be alive, (Y/N).”

Your eyes widened, a quiet gasp leaving your lips as you stared at him.

“How do you know my name, witcher?” you asked, ignoring the confirmation that you had indeed been close to death.

“The women at the brothel speak of you often. Fondly,” he added as an afterthought. “It seems your talents are much appreciated there. Especially with…less than gentlemanly customers.”

“They’re my friends.”

There was that sound again, and you realized now that it was a small chuckle.

“That was not expected.”

“What? You think someone like me can’t be friends with women like that? They look out for me…ever since my family died. They always share their earnings with me and tip me more than enough for my services.”

He didn’t reply to that.

“They’re the only family I have. Everyone else in this town revealed their true colors when I was left with nothing,” you whispered.

“Mm. You should rest.”

“I feel like I’ve been resting for days,” you complained, pulling the covers back over your legs.

“You have,” he confirmed. “…but there is no such thing as too much respite when talking of a werewolf injury.”

You nodded, sighing as you laid back down, oddly comforted by the presence of the Witcher.

.

.

.

You clutched your stomach as you picked at your food, forcing yourself to eat. You needed your strength after all, but you found it difficult. Sharp pains were traveling through your abdomen, sometimes bleeding into your spine, and you didn’t know why. To make matters worse, you were starting to get feverish. You sighed, praying the Witcher would come back from town soon, because you were afraid.

What if he wasn’t as well equipped at remedies as he stated? What if he had used the wrong thing? What if it had only delayed your problems and you were actually dying? After all, he’d said himself that you’d been so close. You set your food onto the table next to your bed before forcing yourself to stand.

You hissed, bending over and clutching your stomach. The pain was beginning to get a bit unbearable, and tears sprung to your eyes. You began to walk out of your room, but your legs shook too much, and had you not had one hand on the wall, you surely would have collapsed. You gasped as the intensity grew, swallowing as you fought not to panic. You eventually did collapse, unable to hold yourself up.

“Geralt… Geralt where are you,” you quietly wondered.

You were positive that you were on the brink of death, because that was exactly what it felt like. Your vision wavered as you swayed in and out of consciousness. You weren’t sure how long you laid there, skin dewy with sweat, but you eventually heard your front door banging against the wall as it flew open. You groaned, barely lifting your head as thunderous footsteps made their way to you.

“Geralt,” you breathed in relief. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

His eyes were hard, and his teeth were bared as he stood in your doorway.

“What? What is it?” you asked, worried that another monster, a bloodthirsty creature of some sort, was near.

“You are in pain,” he growled the observation through clenched teeth.

You winced as another stab of pain shot through you, as if to confirm what he was saying.

“Yes,” you panted. “Are you sure you used what you were supposed to? I feel like I’m dying.”

He slowly exhaled as he stared at you, repeating the action before you realized that he seemed to be restraining himself. His hands were clenched into fists as he turned his face away from you.

“That is not it. You’re not dying… Not yet,” he breathed.

“I don’t understand…,” you replied, shaking your head.

“You did not have a scent,” he said, throwing you off.

“I’m sorry?” you asked in confusion, trying to make sense of his bewildering words as pain continued to plague you.

“When I first met you, you did not have a scent. You never did all this time. Now you do,” he slowly explained.

Your eyes widened as you processed his words, trembling. Deformed was what some people in town would call you. The girls at the brothel simply said you were a late bloomer, assuring you that you would present someday. It was just like your luck for that day to come now.

“No,” you breathed in disbelief.

Your nightshift was becoming soaked with your sweat, and your arms shook as you tried to push yourself up. You could feel it now, a slick between your legs that was not that before.

How did you not realize? You’d seen this before with presenting omegas, plenty of times in fact. You hesitantly lifted your gaze, meeting that of Geralt’s whose eyes were already on you. There was a brief thick silence between the two of you before he eventually lowered his head, shoulders heaving with a sigh. When he straightened, his eyes were hard with determination, and you frantically fought to get up.

“Geralt,” you began to protest, but he was already before you, lifting you into his arms like you weighed nothing.

You beat your hands against his chest when he lowered you to your bed.

“Please, I…”

“Do you wish to die?”

You slammed your mouth shut, looking at him with wide eyes and a fluttering heart.

“You know that is what could happen during your first heat. Do you want to take that chance?”

“I-I’ve never…,” you trailed off, glancing away. “I will survive. I know I will.”

You were strong, and you had faith, but you prayed anyway that you would indeed survive. Geralt sighed, jaw clenched as he continued to hold himself off, looking down at you. You were trembling in his arms, pains wracking your frame as you continued to burn. His eyes trailed down your glistening neck, lingering on your heaving chest as his grip on you tightened.

“I know you will, too,” he agreed just before pressing his lips to your neck.

You gasped, the intense feeling shooting through you taking you by surprise. You reached up to press your hand against his shoulder, but he reached up to grip your wrist. You gasped again when he pinned it beside your head and pressed his lips to your open mouth. You couldn’t stop the moan that escaped you when he rolled his hips against yours.

Your senses were becoming clouded, and you felt yourself wanting to bend to his will. You arched your back, baring your neck to him as he trailed kisses down it, and you felt him growl into the skin. You were at war with yourself, your body and mind fighting against one another as he evoked unfamiliar feelings from you.

His hands tore at your clothing, a sigh of relief escaping you as the cool air hit your feverish frame. You were borderline delirious as he undressed himself, and you found yourself helping him, desperately needing to feel his skin on yours. His hand framed your jaw as he nipped at the skin there, his fair hair brushing along your face.

“I would like nothing more than to devour you, singing between your thighs, properly preparing you, but we must save it for later. There isn’t time, and I won’t have you dying on me, little omega,” he huskily murmured against your skin.

You could feel the slickness dripping down your thighs, and you mewled when he pressed himself against you. He sharply inhaled, breathing you in as he lifted his head to hold your gaze. You dug your nails into his arm, bucking against him when he reached down to grip himself in his hand. You could feel the tip of him against your opening, and you whimpered, both in fear and anticipation.

You did not want this. You could remember that much through the haze. Had it been your choice, you would have taken the chances of surviving your first heat without an alpha there to sate you. The omega in you, the very thing that was a part of your genetic makeup, was seconds away from begging for his knot. You wanted him to hold you down as he fucked you, filling your womb with his seed.

He pressed one hand to your hips, pinning you down and halting your movements. Your chest heaved, a small whine climbing out of your throat.

“Geralt…Geralt, please,” you begged.

You tried to move, but his grip was firm.

“Alpha…please,” you whimpered, and that was his undoing.

In one swift movement, he was inside of you. Despite the slickness, your walls still struggled to accommodate him, and you gasped. One hand came up to lightly grip your neck, pressing his lips against yours to swallow your whimpers. Your legs shook around him, and you could feel his grip on both your neck and hip tighten as he fought to control himself.

You let your head fall back onto the bed, eyes screwed shut when he began to move. Everything was so intense, and you couldn’t make sense of all of the things you were feeling. You peeled your eyes open, watching him as he surged against you, feeling him deep in your gut so strongly it almost hurt. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him even if you tried. His teeth were bared as he focused on where the two of you were connected, hair swinging around his face.

Both of his hands rested on either side of you now, pressing into the mattress, feeling almost caged in as he thrust into your core. His movements were slow, calculated even, but the force behind his thrusts were anything but weak. The bed rocked with the two of you, bumping into your wall. He held your gaze, watching your face as pleasure danced across it.

You hissed when he suddenly pulled out of you, gripping your hips to turn you over onto your stomach. You barely had time to prepare yourself before he was sliding inside of you again. You whimpered, reaching out to clutch your pillow as you adjusted to this new angle. It was a bit uncomfortable, and you reached back, but he gripped your hand, pressing it to the small of your back as pressed his hard chest against you.

“Breathe, little one. It’s alright,” he whispered against your ear.

“I-I can’t…,” you trailed off with a gasp when his hips met your flesh again.

“You can,” he urged. “You can take it. Just relax as you did before.”

You struggled to do that, panting while his thick cock slid against your walls. Your face was lowered, forehead grazing your bed as you took him.

“That’s it,” he praised. “Relax. Let me take care of you…”

You did, and soon you were whimpering again, an unfamiliar heat building in your stomach. It overwhelmed you, and you squirmed.

“Do you want my seed? Is that what you want? What you need?” he growled.

You gasped, struggling to catch your breath as he sped up. He brushed his nose along the skin behind your ear.

“How about my teeth in your pretty neck, hmm? Perhaps that will suit you. It would suit me…to mark you as mine…granting myself with the pleasure of being the only one to touch you like this.”

You moaned, his words going straight to your core, and you clenched around him. You saw stars, trembling beneath him as you milked his cock, struggling to focus on what was before you as he continued to thrust.

“Geralt,” you mumbled when he didn’t let up. “Geralt.”

“You have another in you,” he grunted, flesh slapping against yours now.

“N-no,” you stuttered, but even as you said that, you could feel the coil tightening again.

“Come on, little omega. Give me one more, come with me this time,” he encouraged.

Your breath hitched, and you pushed yourself onto your elbows, tears kissing your eyelashes as you whimpered beneath him. You felt spent, but he was determined to bring you over the edge again. His lips brushed against your neck, teeth grazing the skin as he rutted into you.

Your heart sped up when he reached underneath you to rub his fingers against you. You jerked, taken aback by the pleasure, a choked gasp leaving you.

“That’s it. Let it go,” he grunted.

You came again, and he came with you, sinking his teeth into the skin where your neck and shoulder met. You cried out, tears spilling over now as you fought to get away from his mouth, but he had you pinned beneath him. You continued to clench around him, body spasming as his teeth remained, marking you. One hand pressed into the mattress while the other pressed into your stomach, pulling you up with him.

He rolled over onto his side, still inside you, before finally releasing your neck. You whimpered, sighing as he run his tongue over your skin. His nose grazed your ear, breathing you in, and he tightened his arms around you.

“We have a long night ahead of us, little omega. Sleep, (Y/N).”

And you did.


End file.
